“Of course not,” Hadrian lied. “They’re just dumb animals. Remember, we want to draw them forward so Royce can slip up behind the chief and kill him. He’s the one we need to kill first. He’s their leader. Without him, they will all fall apart. Just step back as you fight, and he will follow you right into the trap.”

More chattering.

Two more flaming arrows whistled and struck the ground.

“Get ready,” Hadrian whispered, then very slowly he drew both swords.

A horn sounded from the stands.

Wesley watched as Hadrian and the warrior slammed into each other, metal clanging. Wyatt, however, shuffled back like a dancer, his cutlass held up and ready. The chief stood still, sniffing the air.

Grady let loose the first of his arrows. He aimed at the distant pile of dancing feathers but greatly overshot. “Damn,” he cursed, working to fit another in the string.

“Lower your aim,” Wesley snapped.

“I never said I was a marksman, did I?”

Something hissed, unseen, by Wesley’s ear. Grady fired a second shot. It landed too short, coming close to where Wyatt feinted, trying to persuade the chief to follow him.

Hissing whistled by again.

“I think they are shooting their arrows at us,” Wesley said, turning just in time to see Grady collapse with a black shaft buried in his chest. He hit the ground, coughing and kicking. His hands struggled to reach the arrow. His fingers went limp, and his hands flapped on the ends of his wrists. He flailed on the dirt, spitting blood, struggling to breathe. A third arrow hissed and struck Grady in his boot. His leg struggled to recoil, but his foot was pinned to the ground.

Wesley stared in horror as Grady shuddered, then fell still.

Royce was already close to the oberdaza when the horn sounded. The clash of steel let him know the fight was on. He had slipped around one of the shattered stone blocks, trying to find a position behind the witch doctor, when the air felt wrong. It was no longer blowing, but bouncing—hitting something unseen. A quick glance at the field revealed only four Ghazel: the chief, the warrior, the oberdaza, and the range. Royce ducked just in time to avoid a slit throat. He spun, cutting air with Alverstone. Turning, he found himself alone. On instinct, he dodged right. Something cut through his cloak. He thrust back his elbow and was rewarded with a solid, meaty thump. Then it was gone again.

Royce spun completely around, but he could see nothing.

In the center of the arena, Hadrian battled with the warrior while Wyatt taunted the chief, who was still reluctant to engage. The range fired arrow after arrow. Beside him, the oberdaza danced and sang.